Whispers
by Sirithiliel
Summary: Tired of being talked about and shunned, he decides to run away. To find out who 'he' is, you have to read. I was in a strange mood, please be nice. One shot.


Disclaimer: Nothing that resembles another's work is mine. I don't own Yu Gi Oh or its characters, settings, or anything of that sort.  
  
Summary: Tired of being shunned, he decides to run away. Who is 'he'? You'll have to read to find out. I was in a strange mood when I wrote this, so be nice!  
  
One shot:  
  
Whispers  
  
He heard them.  
  
He heard the whispers.  
  
He heard them in the halls.  
  
In the classrooms.  
  
Wherever he went, he heard them.  
  
"Don't go near him, he's weird."  
  
"Creep."  
  
"Loser."  
  
They despised him.  
  
Loathed him.  
  
The feeling was mutual.  
  
They strutted around in their flamboyant clothes, their flippant attitudes. Their parents had fancy cars, and nice bungalows.  
  
He drove himself to school on a motorcycle and his house wasn't the best.  
  
They whispered about him. About his life, his home.  
  
He was sick of it. Sick of them. The teachers presided over their classrooms, ignoring the fact that he was being teased, being beat on and shunned.  
  
With no parents, no friends, the rest of the students thought he was appalling in his out worldly dress, his odd ways. It wasn't his fault he was from another place. He had expected life to be great once he moved. But it was illusory. He was seeing in full clarity now, he was disenchanted.  
  
He heard the whispers.  
  
Some said he was sullen. He was impudent. A no good troublemaker who constantly picked fights. That was not true. He never caused a fight. Never started trouble. He was always defending himself. It was not his fault that all who fought him were more talk than fight. Only when he had too did he cause trouble.  
  
Whispers once more, on how he always fights and cheats when he fights.  
  
Teachers said he had too much stress, and he agreed. Places where he could relax comfortably were few.  
  
He brooded in his miserable cloud of solitude. He renegaded on society, vied for friendship with his fellow students.  
  
Whispers on his obsession with the dark.  
  
"Punk."  
  
"Weirdo."  
  
"Belongs in a cult........."  
  
He walked through the halls. Snickers arose from a group of people, and someone stuck a foot out to trip him.  
  
He fell.  
  
A titter came from a group of girls, and soon the other students were laughing as well.  
  
He grabbed his books, walking forwards with a mask of impassivity, not showing the hurt and fury inside.  
  
The students around him whispered.  
  
"Clumsy."  
  
"Stupid."  
  
"Talk about messed up......."  
  
He hated them. All of them. For weeks and months now, he had hated them. He had caused trouble for some of them, sure. But not enough that they would be this cruel to him.  
  
Two kids were ahead of him. They weren't laughing. They were called names too, were teased and beat on. They were called 'geeks', 'nerds', and all the other names people use for others who are smarter than they are.  
  
Those two had always been nice to him, trying to pacify him from causing trouble.  
  
They also queried on his life, his home style. From being alone for so long, the proximity of others left him uncomfortable. People always looked at him as if he was constantly causing mistakes. They were the ones he had caused trouble for before, and yet they still forgave him and were polite.  
  
He was in a quandary. He was engulfed in hatred for others, and yet these two tried their hardest to make him belong and feel better.  
  
The bell rang. Class, and school, was over. Going through the halls, he kept his eyes down and not making any eye contact.  
  
More whispers.  
  
"Odd."  
  
"Going to that bike of his."  
  
"Too good for a bus."  
  
"Good? No, he would defile a bus."  
  
Laughter.  
  
Walking outside, he was a few yards away from school when a group of older kids circled him.  
  
He was going to be beat again.  
  
As he tried to block punches from five different people, he noticed three other kids watching.  
  
One, named Joey, was a former gangster. Until he met Tristan, he had also taken part in beating smaller kids up. He now fought any bully who tried to beat someone.  
  
Except if that victim was him.  
  
He understood. Joey was a friend of the two who tried to be nice to him. But Joey was the one he had used to cause trouble, and the other boy had not forgiven him for it.  
  
Duke was the third one. He didn't have a problem with Duke, except that Duke was alive. The two never paid attention to each other.  
  
It was pandemonium. He tried, and failed, to avoid blows. And the kids who normally helped kids in fights watched, before turning and walking away.  
  
Not even the all around good guys would help him.  
  
When the boys left him alone, he limped home. His house was a shambling mess. The decorum was not the best, and the dark curtains that hung limp from the windows caused shadowy apparitions to appear on the cracked walls.  
  
He had a sister. She didn't know about this though. She thought he was somewhere else. Somewhere nice.  
  
She didn't know he was in school.  
  
Didn't know that he was in town at all.  
  
Stuffing enough provisions into a duffle bag, grabbing a few items such as clothes and a few keepsakes, he grabbed the keys to his motorcycle.  
  
His motorcycle was the only thing he cared about. It was a birthday present from his father, before his parents left him and went who knows where.  
  
He had heard the whispers. Kids were jealous that he had his own motorcycle, and a nice one at that.  
  
They whispered.  
  
Putting the key into the ignition, he prepared to leave the area. No one cared, so why should he bother staying when all he did was clutter up the place?  
  
He was ready to leave, when a figure ran forwards to stop him.  
  
It was one of the kids who had always been nice to him. The other one followed.  
  
They were trying to stop him.  
  
"Please don't go!" one called, pleading with him. Silver hair glinted in the lamplight.  
  
Why did they care?  
  
"You don't need to go this far! We're your friends, if something is the matter, tell us!"  
  
Friends? They were friends?  
  
"Please! Nothing is worth you running away and maybe getting killed!" the other piped in.  
  
Who cared if he died?  
  
"Please? We want to be friends with you. We'll help you out. Please?" the first begged.  
  
Well...they seemed sincere in their offers. What would hurt if he stayed a bit longer? Turning the bike off, he stared the two before him in the eyes.  
  
They were smiling with relief and.........happiness? They really wanted to be his friend?  
  
Malik tilted his head, before taking the backpack off and getting off the bike. Yugi and Ryou grinned at him, and he smiled back slightly.  
  
They wanted to be friends?  
  
Maybe.  
  
Just maybe.

And there were no whispers.

(End Chapter)  
  
Not very long, but I was in an odd mood when I wrote it. Hope you like. This was just a one shot.


End file.
